Falling
by Tired and Inspired
Summary: Camden Walker had a fear of falling. Not landing, but falling. When she moves to New York and meets a crazy guy in blue spandex, though, everything chages. Camden will soon realize that it's not the fall she's afraid of, but the jump.
1. Locker 379 and George the Cat

**Three things. First of all, this is in the movie-verse. If you're not into that, don't read it so I don't have to deal with your flames. Since this is a a Peter/OC story, the same thing also applies. Second, I had an idea a while ago that I got from my OC Camden. I wanted to try to use her in three different stories and see which one people like best. This will be the second one she's in. If she seems uber familiar, that's why. And I forget what the third thing is. Just know that there is one. Constructive criticism welcome, flames frowned upon (no need to be uber mean) reviews and favorites encouraged. I hope you like my story! Thank you for reading!**

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_Chapter One: Locker Number Three Hundred and Seventy-Nine and George the Cat_

"...New girl from Boston..."

"Have you heard her accent..."

"...Kicked the crap out of three girls..."

Ah, the glory of being the new kid. Nothing's better than walking around the halls, hearing people talking about you like you're not right next to them, or like your death. Just from walking down the halls, I've heard several things about myself that I did not now before. For example, I'm a professional kick-boxer and I broke a Brazilian model's jaw, now not only did she loose her job, but she has to eat all her food with a straw. Also, I have a troubled past with abusive parents and have been to jouvie three times already. It's really amazing how much you can miss out in your own life.

None of that stuff is even close to true. If I tried to punch someone, I'd break my hand. No joke. Also, my parents have to be the farthest thing from abusive. They love me more than anything, and the feeling is mutual. The only time I was ever hit by my parents is when my mom accidentally whacked me in the head when she was telling a story with her hands.

Yet, these people are ignorant and will believe whatever the hell they want, and there's really nothing I can do but grin and bear it. The worst that could happen is someone's head explodes from all the different rumors they heard. Although that wouldn't exactly be good...

I shake my head, in a lame attempt of clearing my thoughts. I titled my head down to read the small piece of paper the secretary gave me. Locker number three hundred and seventy-nine. How coincidental, my three least favorite numbers in a row. I looked back up at the lockers I'm passing. Great, they're all in the eight-hundreds. I have no idea what I'm doing. "Excuse me, but could you tell me where my locker is?" I ask a random student, trying to sound as polite as possible.

The random student, a tall male with a blonde buzz cut, looks down at me. "Are you the new kid?" The polite tone was not returned. I narrowed my eyes up at him. So far, New York hasn't impressed me with the quality of it's people.

"Yes." I shot back, glaring up at him. Even I could hear the annoyance in my voice. Honestly though, can you blame me? How rude was that?

He grins a little and puts his hands up in mock surrender. "Alright, calm down! I was just wondering. What's your name?"

"Camden."

He glances down at the price of paper in my hand. "Alright, you're gonna want to take a right at the end of this hall and walked towards the end. From there take a left and your locker should be on the right side. Got it?"

I nod. "Yep, thank you." Turning to walk away, I hear him reply; "No problem, Cammie," and my annoyance grows. I hate that name. I take a right and try to squeeze my way through a sea of people. It seems like every single person in this school was in this exact spot at the same time. It seems like as I try to push through the crowd, everyone stops and stares at me, the 'new girl'. I can't wait to not be her.

Once I make it through the crowd, I take the left buzz-cut told me to take. Looking at the right wall, I see not three hundreds, but nine hundreds. Great, just great. Without thinking, I slam my head into a random locker. Number nine hundred and seventy-nine. Only six hundred away from my locker.

I feel someone tap me on the shoulder. "Excuse me miss, you're on my locker." Are my ears deceiving me, or is someone not being rude? It must be a miracle.

I lift my head and turn around to look at the person behind me. It's a tall, skinny guy with disheveled brown hair and hazel eyes. He was pretty damn cute, like a nerdy cute. Although, on the right side of his face, he had a giant purple bruise. "Oh, um, sorry." I said, moving out of his way. He smiled and proceeded to open his locker. "Um, you wouldn't know where locker number three hundred and seventy-nine is?"

He looked at me with a confused expression as he pulled a notebook from his locker and slammed it shut. He hesitated a little. "You don't...you don't know where your locker is?"

I shrugged. "I'm new here. I don't really know much of anything other than the fact that if I don't get to Mr. Warren's biology class soon, I'm screwed." He smiled down at me. Apparently my exasperated tone and frustration amused this boy.

"Don't worry, I'll show you your locker. It's right near Mr. Warren's room. Besides, I'm in that class too." He smiled. It was a really cute smile. A really cute distracting smile. Damn teenage hormones. "My name's Peter Parker, by the way." He put his hand out for me to shake.

"Camden Walker." I smiled up at him, taking his hand. It was warm, a little rough but soft nonetheless. My hand felt right in it, but it also bothered me that I noticed these details. Though, no one's hand has ever felt wrong in mine, so I let it slide. I dropped his hand and he led me in the opposite direction. I was tempted to go try to find Buzz-Cut, but I feared being late. I'd just get him later.

"How's your first day so far?" Peter asked, I assumed he was attempting to make polite conversation.

"Well, up until I met you, it was extremely confusing. This one kid gave me wrong directions and I got lost, twice. I also got lost on my way here. Three times." I said, holding up my three middle fingers and pressing my lips together.

He sent me a grin. "Not used to be cities?"

I shook my head. "Nah, I'm from Boston, so I know what it's like. But honestly, why do you New Yorkers need some many skyscrapers? Honestly, it's all I can see."

Peter let out a laugh. "Trust me, they're more useful than you'd think."

Cryptic. I like it.

I chose to drop the conversation there and just walk with Peter. It was hard to keep up, my legs were so much shorter than his. I practically had to jog to keep up with his stride, even when he slowed it down. Finally, he stopped in front of a classroom. "This is Mr. Warren's room. Your locker should be right about there." He pointed to a row of lockers diagonal from the room. "If you need anything else, I'll be in here."

I smiled at him. "Thank you so much Peter."

"No problem." He replied with his extremely distracting lopsided grin as I turned to go to my locker. It was right where Peter had pointed to. Locker three seventy-nine. Praise the lord. I quickly put extra notebooks I knew I wouldn't need and made my way into the classroom. The second my Converse bearing foot stepped inside the room, the bell rang. Thank god for Peter.

It appeared that everyone was still chatting, so I made my way up to the teacher, who was happily typing away on his computer. "Um, excuse me." He jumped a little, and looked up at me, his wire glasses falling down his nose. "I'm Camden Walker, I'm new here."

He nodded. "Oh, alright then. You can find your textbook on the shelf right to the left of my textbook. Since this is an AP class, I expect you'll be able to catch on fairly quickly." I nodded, feeling confident. Biology was, after all, my second best subject. After English, of course. "Class," he said a bit louder, and everyone turned to face the front, "this is our new student Camden Walker from..."

"Boston."

"Boston! I advise you be to extra delicate with her, those Red Sox fans are extremely sensitive." Oh, so that's how he wanted to play.

I rolled my eyes. "You're only saying that because you're still heartbroken over 2004."

Mr. Warren smiled. "Well, you would be correct, Miss Walker. Now why don't you take a seat next to Miss Jamison?"

The rest of the day proved to be uneventful. Confusing, but uneventful. There was just something strange about starting a new school in the November. Everyone knows each other and they've gotten into a pattern. Me? I'm just running around like a headless chicken. The only time I ever moved schools is when I was asked to leave a all girls Catholic school. I bite a nun, and they 'kindly requested' for me to go to a different school the following autumn. That was fine, because I already knew the people at the public school and it was the beginning of the year. This, on the other hand is just freaking confusing. Not to mention my hatred for New York.

Once the bell rang, I quickly ran to locker three seventy-nine, gathered all my books and notebooks, and got the hell out of there. So far, Midtown Science had not become my favorite. Even the all girls Catholic school was better than this hell hole. "Hey, Camden!" I heard someone call as I was walking out the door. I turned to see it was Peter. He jogged a bit to catch up with me. "I was just wondering if you needed someone to um, walk you home." Peter paused, looking down at me with a quirky, yet adorable, smile. "I mean, since you said you didn't know you're way around, I could show you." He paused again. "I mean, if you want to."

I grinned up at him, kind of hoping I didn't have any spinach from lunch stuck in my teeth. "That'd be nice. I'd love to actually not get lost." And maybe, you know, make a new friend so I'm not forever alone. I didn't say that part aloud.

He grinned. "Alright, well let's go." We walked out of the school together, the sun was bright but the wind was chilly. I buried my hands into my jacket pockets. "So, where do you live?"

"The Wayland Building." I glanced up at him. "You know how to get there?"

He chuckled at me. "I've lived here my whole life, of course I know how to get there." I shrugged and continued to follow him as he my down the street. This was a strange experience for me, walking down the streets of the city I hate with a person I barely know. Although I must admit, Peter wasn't bad at all so far. If anything, he was exactly the type of person I'd be friends with. From what I know, he's a nice guy. "So tell me about yourself." He said, breaking the silence.

"Well, I just moved here from Boston. My dad works for a small publishing company based in Massachusetts. The owner bought part of a building or whatever here and wanted my to come work here. My mom's an author, so the move was easy on her. My brother Ashton's in college, so it doesn't affect him. It sucks for me, though." I paused, looking at the skyscrapers of New York. I shrugged. "What about you?"

"Well, I live with my Aunt May. My uncle died last year. That was rough. My parents disappeared when I was a little kid. They left me with my Uncle Ben."

"Wow," I said, unable to find words. "That sucks."

"Yeah.." He trailed off into the distance. "Hey, wanna play twenty questions?"

"Sure, you go first."

"Favorite color?"

"Red, duh. Boston Red Sox. What's your favorite hobby?"

"Photography, I skateboard a little. That's where all my bruises come from." He said, motioning to the right side of his face. "They're a real chick magnet, you know."

I laughed. "So once the bruises attract the girl, and she asks where the bruise came from, do you tell her it's because you suck at skating?"

"I do not suck!" He said, feigning an offensive reaction. I giggled. "Next question, what's your middle name?"

"Jane. My parents named me after two things, the town my grandfather grew up in, and my mother. Do you have any pets?"

He shook his head. "Nope. Do you?"

I smiled up at him. "I have a cat. His name is George."

At this, he burst out laughing. "Why on earth did you name your cat George?"

"Have you ever seen or read Harry Potter?" He nodded, still chuckling. "Well, my favorite characters were Fred and George. When Fred died, I was extremely mad at J.K Rowling for killing my favorite character. So I told my dad I wanted a kitten in honor of Fred's memory. But my dad hadn't yet read the book, so he thought George died. One say he came home and brought me George the cat, and I didn't talk to him for a week. But I still love George."

Peter laughed, running a hand through his hair. He had nice hair, it looked natural, the way it stood up. It had a sort of perfectly imperfect look to it. I then proceeded to mentally smack myself, for thinking so much about Peter's hair. "That has to be the greatest story I've ever heard." He laughed.

"Oh, shut-up." I said as I felt the color rising to my checks. I suddenly regretted telling him the story behind George's name.

He laughed more. "No, no! I'm serious! I was very moved by your desire to honor a fallen hero. I'm sure Fred would appreciate the effort." I rolled my eyes but laughed, nevertheless. "If it makes you feel better, I really do like the name George. And Fred, for that matter. They really are both wonderful names."

I rolled my eyes. "Alright, whatever you say."

Peter shot me one last grin as we stopped in front of an apartment building. For a second, I wondered why we stopped. Then I realized that this was my apartment. Whoops. "Well, I guess this is your stop. I'll see you tomorrow then?"

I smiled. "Yeah, see you tomorrow." I started to walk up the steps still facing backwards. "Bye Peter."

"Bye Camden." I turned around and opened the door. "Oh, and tell George I said hi." I turned around and gave him a smile before making my way into the door and up the stairs.

Once I entered my actual apartment, the smell of buffalo chicken macaroni and cheese overcame me. I grinned at the smell of my favorite food. "Hey guys! I'm home!" I called, making my way into the kitchen. Our apartment was laid out funny, or at least I thought so. The first thing you saw when you walk in is the living room, so if a thief comes its easy for him or her to get the TV out. There were two hallways, one which led to the bedrooms. There were four bedrooms, two of which had conjoining bathrooms. The other hall led to an extra room that my dad made his study. Behind the couch, there was a countertop that connected the kitchen and the living room. It was going to take a while for me to get used to. My mother was working at the stove, stirring something up. "Hi Mommy!" I grinned innocently, sitting on one of the chairs we had in the kitchen. Our apartment, for the most part, was unpacked. We just had my room to unpack. Well, I just had my room to unpack.

"Hello, sweetie. How was your first day?" She asked, wiping her hands on a dish rag.

I sighed, throwing my long dirty blonde hair into a messy bun. Since today was my first day, I put effort into how my hair looked. Most days I just throw it up in one of these beautiful buns. "It was confusing. I got lost a couple if times, twice someone gave me wrong directions. Finding my locker was terrible, but in the process I think I made a new friend."

My mom turned around, leaning against the counter with a smile on her face. It was pretty; I always wished I could look like my mom. She had shoulder-length auburn hair and soft features, though they have slightly wrinkled with age. The only thing I inherited were her big, green eyes. I loved them. "That's great sweetie! What's her name?"

"His name is Peter."

My mother playfully rolled her eyes. "Are you ever going to develop a friendship with a girl?"

I pursed my lips together, pretending to think about it. "Hmm, no."

"You know you're going to give your father a heart attack, with all these boys you hang out with."

"Yep! I know."

She rolled her eyes again. "Well, if you're not going to make any girlfriends, go unpack your room!"

"What does that have to do with girlfriends?"

"It doesn't, your room just needs to be unpacked."

I groaned. "But Mother! I have homework!"

"Well you can do it after dinner. Now, shoo!" She said, motioning me away with her wooden spoon. I let out another large groan as I walked out of the kitchen and down the hall. "I love you!" My mom called.

"I love you, too!" I called back as I entered my room. I actually loved my room. As a reward for so patiently being torn from my city, I got to chose my room. It had one brick wall, which reminded me of my hometown. The rug on the floor was soft and white, but the other walls were red. There was also a large window, it gave me a great view. Too bad I hate New York.

I grabbed the boxes off my bed and started taking the contents out. I stared out by emptying my suitcase, taking my clothes out and hanging them on hangers. I was very careful while packing. A lot of my t-shirts are either vintage or brand-new band shirts. If anything happened to them, I think I might cry.

While I was unpacking, I heard a loud noise come from outside my window. It was getting darker outside, I at first thought it was just a dumb bird. Then I heard it again, louder this time. I cautiously made my way to the window, peering out of it. Suddenly, there was a flash of red and blue as a figure smashed into my window. I let out a yelp, jumping backwards. I was surprised the window didn't break.

Outside of my window was a man dressed in what looked like red and blue spandex, with his hands and feet pressed up against the window. How the hell did he stay up there? How the hell did he get up there? There was what looked to be a red spider on the middle of his chest. The last thing I saw before I jumped away was my own reflection in what looked like fancy sunglass lenses.

What the hell was that?

I shook my head and sat down on my bed, trying to come up with an explanation as to what that was. I would finish unpacking later.


	2. Lost!

**Fench-the-TARDIS: Thank you yoodles! I'm glad you like it :) **

**AshleighxAwsome: Thank you so much! I'm blushing so much at your comment, entering fangirl mode. **

**kitkat101895: Here you go! Plus, I like your profile picture. Did you make that? **

**QueenOfAshes: Thanks! I've had a crush on Peter Parker for a while now, too. He's just my type! I'm a nerd too, don't worry. You should check out the new one, I liked it. I actually think Andrew Garfield did a better job than Tobey Maguire. Plus, he's so much better looking. **

** 6: Yay! I love it when you guys love my stories! **

**spider-man fan: Nope, Peter does not feel anything towards Camden, he was just being friendly. **

**Guest: Thank you for pointing out the mis-typings. I try to get them all, but I usually miss a few. About the fifth ave. thing, I know nothing about the geography of New York, I put that down just for while I was writing the draft, and never got to change it. That's my bad. And like I said, Peter doesn't have a lot of interest in her, I just wanted to develope a friendship between them to start off. And lastly, Camden does not hate New York just because she's from Boston, the reason will later unfold in the story. Thanks for your review :) **

**Now here's chapter two:) It's kind of a filler, so please don't be upset that it's boring. I also apologize for the lack of Peter in this chapter. The next one will be much more exciting, but please bare with me here! **

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_Chapter Two: Lost!_

Hot showers in the morning when it's still dark out are the best opportunities to think, or in this case, not think.

As the burning water relaxed my muscles, my mind avoided thoughts about the move, school, and that red spandex person that was really starting to freak me out. I could close my eyes, smell my cheap shampoo, and pretend I'm still back at home. It's quite easy for me to tell that I don't belong here. I feel like the only girl who's not a gorgeous fashion model, or chasing a childhood dream. I feel like, when I'm here, I have no purpose. I don't fit in to the New York crowd. If I do, then I just haven't found the right people yet.

I sighed while rubbing the coconut shampoo into my hair. Yes, I'm happy for my dad's new job opportunity, but I wish it didn't bring us here. Or anywhere else, for that matter. I feel the soap suds running down my face, mixing in with my silent tears. My heart feels like it weighs a thousand pounds and my chest feels as if it's being squeezed. A sob's coming on, though I try to stifle it. I guess not thinking about things didn't work out too well for me.

Today was Friday, the best day of the week because, of course, there would be no school the following day. Oh, how I craved to sleep in and watch some old movie. Though, one good thing would come out of school today, my music class. Ever since I was a little girl, I've played the piano and written and sang my own songs. Mind you, when I was a little girl the things I wrote about were dinosaurs and dragons. I like to think that, since then, not only has my voice improved but my writing has as well.

I turned the hot water off, and the cold air hit my skin. Shivers ran down my spine as I hopped out of the shower and wrapped a fluffy towel around my entire body, trying to preserve the heat. I stood there for a few moments, letting my body warm itself up before walking back to my room to get dressed.

After putting on as many layers as I could and blow drying my hair and throwing it in a bun, I made my way into the kitchen, putting a bagel in the toaster. Hopefully the second day at my new school will be as uneventful as the first, maybe even less. And if I'm lucky, a whole lot less confusing. While I was waiting for my bagel, I pulled out my phone and checked Facebook, to see how all my friends were doing. As my mother and father have complained about before, most of my friends are guys. The only reason is, though, is because I get along well with guys. I'm not whore, even though that's what most people think when they realize how little female companionship I have. I think the reason I have so many guy friends is because it's a drama free zone. Very over-used statement, I know, but it's true. In the fifth grade, I was friends with this girl Amanda. For an eleven year old, she was a very devious girl. She pretended to be my best friend, and I slept over her house. Then she told everyone that I picked my nose, and no girl would talk to me. That's when I started hanging with the boys.

After two minutes of Internet stalking, and finding nothing interesting, my bagel popped out. I quickly coated it with cream cheese and made my way out the apartment, leaving a note for my still sleeping parents.

It was cold outside, colder than I expected it to be. I was glad for my giant sweatshirt to keep me warm. The sky was still darkened, and the streets were still crowded. I wondered if there was ever a day when no one walked along these streets. I highly doubted it. There would never be a day when every single person in New York, tourist and locals, would stay off the streets for even a second. I doubt they could even do that for the filming of 'I Am Legend.'

My phone buzzed in my pocket as I tried to follow the same path I took yesterday. Pulling it out, I saw it was my brother, Ashton, who happens to be in college. From what I understand, it takes an act of God to get a college kid up this early in the morning. Why the hell would my brother be up? "Hey, what's up?" I asked, taking another bite of my bagel.

"What should I wear to church?" Oh, so it was an act of God.

"Why are you going to church?" I asked, rolling my eyes slightly. My family was Christian, but barely. We only go to church on Christmas and Easter, inconsistently. Religion wasn't a top priority in our family. Ashton and I believe it's because our grandparents practically shoved the Bible down our parent's throat, so they have no desire to practice any religion.

I could hear him sigh over the other line. "Well, there's this girl I really like. Her name's Leah." He whispered the last part, I assume it's because he didn't want his dorm mates to hear him. Though, I bet a million dollars they're so asleep there wouldn't be able to tell if an elephant walked through the room. Men.

"Ohh, Leah." I cooed.

"Shut-up, Cam. Anyways, Leah's really religious, and I wanted to impress her by going to church."

I rolled my eyes again as I turned the corner, coming closer to my destination. The sights seem familiar from yesterday, a sure sign I'm going in the right direction. "Why do you have to go to mass at six in the morning? Why can't you go to a later one?"

"Well, Leah goes to every mass and this is the only one the fits in my schedule, so…"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa! Hold on a second! Did you say she went to every mass? Like she goes to multiple masses a day?

"Well, yeah."

"Aren't they all the same? I mean, doesn't the priest just say the same thing at each of the masses? Why does she have to go more than one time?"

I heard his slightly obnoxious, jock laugh from the other end of the line. "Don't be ridiculous, Cam! She goes to a different church each time she goes to mass! It'd be stupid to go to the same thing like, five times a day!"

"Yeah, I'm the ridiculous one."

"So answer my question! I have twenty minutes to get ready."

"Which means you have twenty minutes to find whatever it is I tell you to wear and put it on as fast as possible, regardless of whether it's wrinkled or not?

"Does it matter if it's wrinkled?" I sighed, finishing off my bagel and coming closer to Midtown Science High.

"Just wear a pair of khakis and a polo shirt. I assume mom packed you both of those things before she left?"

I heard shuffling. "Yeah, I just have to find it." I held back the 'I told you so.' "Thanks Cam, love you!"

"Love you too, Ash." I said hanging up and putting my phone back in my pocket. Boys could be idiots sometimes. I feel like things that are appropriate to wear to church is something everyone should know, and if they don't, they should learn.

A few minutes and some aching feet later, I arrived at Midtown somewhat early. It didn't take me long to find my locker, unlike yesterday. While I was there, I exchanged books and checked my schedule. Unfortunately, I didn't have my music class until after lunch, but it did give me something to look forward too. Still, I was craving to get my hands on a keyboard and sing. I haven't had any good playing time since we moved, and that's not good. It's mostly been my fault, because I moped around like a bum a lot when I could have been playing. Now, I feel like taking this class will throw me back into the swing of things, which is right where I want to be.

I made my way down the halls as people starting piling it, making sure that I knew where each of my classrooms were so I wouldn't get lost again. Being the new girl is terrible, being the cliché new girl who gets lost all the time and bumps into lots of people is even worse. I had no intention of being that girl. Finally, I made my way into my AP English, one of my three AP classes, biology, English, and French. I was all alone, sitting at the desk and doodling on my notebook. People starting walking in, taking their seats and ignoring me. At this rate, with me talking to no one and no one talking to me, I'm not making a whole lot of friends. Half-way through drawing my third dragon, the bell rang and the class was full.

The teacher, Ms. (used to be Mrs. but is newly divorced, as she told me yesterday) Volakis walked in, her low black heels clicking on the tile floor. She looked like a typical crazy English teacher, with a head of black ringlets and wire glasses that kept falling down her nose. Her blue eyes looked like they had seen many things, and had many stories to tell. Besides music, English was my second favorite subject, so I hoped this lady would be good. Ms. Volakis walked behind her desk, organizing various papers on it. "Is everyone here today?" She called, narrowing her eyes, looking for missing bodies. "Raise your hand if you're not here." Naturally, no one raised their hands. I really can't imagine why. "Alright, it seems that everyone's here. We can begin." She moved towards the chalkboard, and I wondered why she still had one. Why have a chalk board when there are, much cleaner and simpler, white boards?

In big, messy letters, she wrote out the words, 'The Scarlet Letter.' Ah, the red A. Of course, I've read it before. With all the talk about it, I just had to. It's right up there with my favorites like Harry Potter. Ms. Volakis turned to face us, crossing her arms over her chest. "Can anyone tell me about the Scarlet Letter?" She asked, looking around at the unresponsive room. No one made a move to answer the question. "No one? I would expect more from you; this is, after all, an Advanced Placement class." The classic taunting method, what a terrible way to get students to answer questions. It seems when no one knows the answer, or doesn't feel like raising their hand, the teacher takes the opportunity to take a blow at your pride.

I slowly and I unsurely raised my hand, hoping for the best. She pointed her honey finger at me. "Yes, Miss Williams."

"It's actually Walker." Walk-ah. Even I could hear the accent; I could hear the snickering from other students. Color rose to my checks as the giggled about my accent.

Ms. Volakis just smiled. "My apologizes, Miss Walker. Now go on."

Here goes nothing. "Well, the main idea is that Hester Prim's, the main character, husband is away at war, she thinks he has died. She then has an affair with the minister and is charged with adultery, which back then was the worst crime a women could commit. She was forced to wear a red 'A' on her chest, hence the title of the story."

She nodded. "Good, that is the general idea of the story." she pointed her finger at all of us again. "All of you, though, will be learning about this more in depth. I want you to read the first ten chapters and fill out a packet for next Thursday." There was a collective groan at the mention of a packet. I didn't really mind though, it's not like she was asking us to cut our fingers off. That I would be opposed to, but not a packet. It's not like I have an important life to attend to, anyways. Being a loner has its perks. "Oh, shut it! It's not like I'm asking you to cut off your fingers."

Wow.

"Anyways, you will be assigned a partner to work with for the duration of this book, and at the end you will do a project together. Understood?" I nodded, eager to see who my partner was. I listened attentively has she listed pairs.

"...Mark Sealy and Allison Wilson."

"James Butler and Ryan Harrington..."

"Charlotte Decor and Camden Walker." She said, finally calling my name. I noticed a slim brunette trying to catch my attention. I looked in her direction and gave a small smile to whom I assumed to be Charlotte Decor. She was pretty, in a perfect, preppy type way. Her long dark hair was pin straight, without a stray in sight, held back by a thick, pink headband. Pearls were in her ears and I saw a silver chain dangling from her neck. She wore a bright pink and lime green sweater. Overall, she looked like your stereotypical, rich, popular bitch. And the sickeningly sweet smile she gave me only supported my assumption.

I had to remind myself not to judge, because for all I know she could be a really great person who turns out to be my best friend. But, god, she looked so obnoxiously perfect.

We were all given worn out copies of the 'Scarlett Letter' and Ms. Volakis continuing to talk about our future project and the book, while throwing in little complaints about her ex-husband in here and there. When the bell rang, I gathered my things and made my way out of the room as quickly as possible, only to be tracked down by a certain perfect looking girl. Charlotte grabbed my arm lightly, making me turn to face her. "Hi! Camden right?" Oh god, her voice was worse than her smile. I could make freaking cotton candy with that voice.

I gave a little smile. "Yeah, I'm Camden."

Nothing could have prepared me for what happened next. This girl I met ten seconds ago pulled me in for a bone crushing hug. For a slim girl, she sure has a lot of power. "It's so nice to meet you! I'm Charlotte Decor, and your English partner, obviously." She rolled eyes at herself, giving a little giggle. "I'm so happy to meet you, I'm sure we'll be great friends!" She squealed, releasing me.

I was shocked at her actions, but managed a weak smile and a, "Ah-huh."

She pulled out a piece of her fancy looking purse and handed it to me. It was a business card with her name and number. Really? A freaking business card? "That's my cell number, just text me anytime. We'll arrange to get to know each other and work on the project later." She gave me such a big smile; I thought her mouth would crack. "This'll be so much fun!"

"Yeah."

"Where are you going now?" She asked as we began to walk in the same direction down the hall.

"AP French."

"Get out!" I jumped slightly as she shouted the words in my ear. "I'm going to AP French! This is awesome!"

"Yay."

The majority of the day went like that. Charlotte would come and met me outside my class and insist upon bringing me to my next class. I know she had good intentions, but she was annoying the crap out of me. I was tempted to tell her to piss off, but I didn't have the heart. She even says with me at lunch, telling me about her healthy salad choices. Her father thinks obesity is awful, like a disease, and so she always eats healthy to avoid gaining too much weight. No wonder she was so tiny.

By the time I finally had my music class, I was mentally exhausted and about ready to punch someone in the face. I was in no mood to have to play anything. I was actually considering just going home and sleeping, why wait? But I had to go, and now or never, I always say.

There weren't many people in the class, only around twelve. It was good in the sense that there would be less people to embarrass myself in front of, but there were also less people I could bond with. There weren't any desks, just a lot of empty black chairs and music stands, with several instruments hanging up in the back. I timidly took a seat next to a girl with frizzy brown hair. She took no notice to me.

The bell rang, but the teacher never showed up. I check my schedule, sixth period with Mr. Finn, music. I definitely had this class. I looked around the classroom, everyone was chatting lightly. Ten minutes past, and no one showed up. I was honestly starting to get worried. What if the teacher got kidnaped? Or died? Though, he must not have been a popular teacher, because no one else seemed to care. I stood and made my way towards the door. Once I reached the doorframe, I slammed into a body. A body that was carrying many things, one of them just so happened to be coffee. Great.

I looked up to see a man, late twenties, wearing a sweater vest and dress pants. He looked kind of pissed off, and I don't blame him, seeing that his vest is now the color of caramel mocha ice coffee. "I am so sorry!" I gasped.

He narrowed his icy blue eyes at me. "And you must be Camden Walker from Boston, am I correct?" I nodded, not daring to open my mouth. I was afraid I'd say something stupid that would just get me in more trouble. I could hear the snickers of my peers behind me. "Well, why don't you show us why you're in this class? What do you play?"

"Piano and I sing." I whispered.

He motioned to the left, where a keyboard was. I made my way over there, taking a seat on the bench. I waited for a song to come to mind, and it did. Lost! by Coldplay. I started to play, my fingers fumbling slightly over the keys. "_Just because I'm losing, doesn't mean I'm lost. Doesn't mean I'll stop. Doesn't mean I will cross._" My fingers warmed up a little, playing the notes a little better. "_Just because I'm hurting, doesn't mean I'm hurt. Doesn't mean I didn't get what I deserve. No better than the worst."_

_"I just got lost! Every river that I've tried to cross. Ever door I ever tried was locked. Oh and I'm just waiting till the shine wears off."_

I pulled my fingers away and looked back over towards Mr. Finn. His blue eyes were narrowed at me, like he didn't want to tell me I did a good job, or that he was hoping I sucked so he could insult me. "A little rusty, but okay. Now take a seat, today we are looking at the evolution of music.

For the second time that day, there was a collective groan that I didn't contribute to.


	3. Spider-Man

**kitkat101895: I fan-girled once I realized that you are the author of one of my favorite Spider-Man fanfictions. Please update! It's soo good! **

**Fench-the-TARDIS: I bet you can guess from the name of this chapter that you have to wait no longer...**

**Vladimir the Hamster: I laughed at that part too :) **

**Sorry this chapter's a little shoter, but I did write it in less than twelve hours. I just wanted to get you guys this chapter fast, because I might not be able to update during Thanksgiving break. My entire family is coming to my house for Thanksgiving, and I have to cheer at the Thanksgiving game. Blah, it's going to be freezing. Then I have plans with my friends, and then I have to go to some college with my brother for a day visit. Blah. So I'm not going to be able to write that much, though hopefully I can get at least a chapter in. Thanks for reading! Review, favorite, follow, tell you friends, make is Thanksgiving conversation! Or, if you're not American, make it dinner conversation! **

* * *

_Chapter Three: Spider-Man _

"How was school today, sweetie?" My mother asked as I walked through the door, her head turning in my direction. _You're turning heads as you walked through the doo-o-or. _"Did you make any friends?" She asked me from her spot on the kitchen counter, typing away on her laptop. I felt like Cady in Mean Girls, the way my mother questioned me.

I shrugged. "It was fine, I guess. I had music today, which was good. I also met this girl, Charlotte Decor. She's pretty and nice, I guess." I sat down next to my mother, grabbing an apple and biting a chunk out of it.

My mother started at me with a blank expression on her face. Her green eyes mirrored mine as I stared back in confusion, taking another large bite of my apple. She placed a hand on my shoulder with a serious look to her. "Camden, are you a lesbian?"

I chocked on my apple and she jumped in shock. "What? Mom, no!"

"Honey, I'm home!" I heard the voice of my father as he burst through the front door, a grin on his handsome face. I continued to struggle with the piece of apple stuck in my throat, coughing, while my mother rubbed my back, whispering, 'it's okay to be different.' "What's going on here?" My father asked, placing his brief case on the coffee table, walking over to us.

"Camden likes woman." My mother burst out as I managed to swallow the piece of apple, breathing normal again though my eyes were watering.

"Mom!"

My dad smiled again. "That's great honey. You know, one in every ten people are gay. So if you count our extended family, there's at least one person who's bound to be gay. To be honest, I always thought it would be your Uncle Kevin, or maybe even Ashton. Now that I think about it, I don't think Ashton _or _your Uncle Kevin has ever been in a real relationship. But then again, neither have you."

"Dad!" I exclaimed, standing on my feet. "Mother, father, gay people are great, really, but I am not one of them. Now, I've noticed we have no Nutella in this apartment, which is a disgrace to humanity. I am going to go to the store and buy some. I'll be back in twenty minutes or so."

My parents smiled at me. "Bye Cammie! I love you!" My father called after me as I walked towards the door.

"Love you too, Daddy!" I called, making my way out of the apartment. Before I closed the door, I heard him whisper, 'do you think she's really gay?' to my mother. I rolled my eyes at them. I love my parents, but they are a little much at times.

Thank god for modern technology, because it didn't take long for me to realize that I had no freaking clue as to where I was going. Actually, I realized that the second I stepped out the building. I pulled out my phone and pulled up a map to the nearest convenience store, and was on my way.

Many people filled the streets, as usual. I tried to watch the map while avoiding bumping into people. It was difficult, but I managed. I kind of felt like Kramer in Seinfeld, walking around like a crazy person with a confused look on my face. I did get a few strange glances.

It took a good twenty minutes, but I finally arrived at the story. It was like the one back home in Boston. There were rows of food and personal products. The back wall was covered by a long row of refrigerators. I walked through the aisles, browsing through the food, looking for the spread that was a gift from the gods.

Just my luck, they didn't have any. With a sigh, I made my way towards the back to grab an Arizona Ice Tea, my favorite. I walked back to the front counter where the cashier was. The florescent lights of the store were not flattering on his pale, pimply face. His long, dark curly hair was greasy and hung in his dark eyes. He reminded me of my cousin, Jackson. I hanged him the tea and my money. I only had a twenty, so I let my eyes wander as he slowly got me my change.

A black and white picture caught my eye. It was on a newspaper titled, 'The Daily Budge." In the picture was a man wearing what looked like a morph suit with a spider in the middle. They guy outside my window was on the front page of the newspaper. I picked up the paper and placed it on the counter. "I'll take this too." The cashier glowered at me. "Please."

He scanned the newspaper and handed me my change. I picked up my items and dropped three quarters in the tip jar, stuffing the rest of the money back in my pocket. I pushed the door open with a lot of force, only to fall backwards on my butt. I heard stifled laughter behind me and I resisted the urge to glare. "You have to pull the door, miss."

"Oh." I replied unintelligently, pulling the glass door open. My mind was elsewhere as I searched for an empty bench. When I finally found one, I sat myself down and opened my Arizona, taking a large gulp out of it before opening up the newspaper. Under the picture, 'Spider-Man, New York's Own Hero' was written in big, bold letters.

Spider-Man, interesting.

I let my eyes travel over the small, black print, trying to soak up all the information I can. From what I gather, this man is known as Spider-Man by the entire city of New York. He apparently has spider powers, hence the name. According to this article, Spider-Man is like a cop with super-powers, fighting crime in the dead of night. In this case, he saved a man from being murder and put an alleged serial killer behind bars. Though, there was one question on everyone's mind. Who was Spider-Man? I also couldn't help but wonder who the masked crime fighter was.

I sat there, reading and catching up on news until the sun dipped behind the skyscrapers and my fingers grew numb from the cold. Plus, my phone rang, knocking me out of my own little world. "Hello?"

"Where are you honey?" I heard the worried voice of my mother come from the other line. "It's almost five o'clock!"

I sighed, feeling bad for losing track of time. "Don't worry mom, I just got lost. I think I know where I'm going now, but if anything's wrong I'll call you. Okay? I'll be home soon enough,"

"Alright, well we're having dinner soon. If you're not home we'll just eat without you." She said with a half teasing, half serious tone. "Love you."

"I love you too, Mom."

Alright, so I told a little white lie, but that's okay! I usually never lie to my parents, so this one isn't that bad, and it's not like I was doing anything wrong. Still, I couldn't help but feel bad. There's a mutual feeling of trust between my parents and I, and I feel like I just broke that with one little lie. I walked with my head hung low.

Shaking my head, I turned the corner, thinking it was on the way to my house. Half-way through, I realized I took a wrong turn into an alleyway. I was about to turn around when I heard a muffled cry and fierce whispering. Curious, I lifted my head towards the end of the alley. I saw a woman being pressed up against the wall by a tough looking man with tears rolling down her face. His grimy hand covered her lips, and I could hear her heavy breathing from my position. I then made a very stupid, yet extremely smart decision.

I walked towards the pair.

"Hey man," I called, this head snapped in my direction while her eyes traveled slowly to me. "why don't you just let her go?"

This man had cropped black hair and beady black eyes. His chin was covered in stubble, and I could smell the alcohol on him. He snickered at me. "And what are you going to do about it, blondie?"

I shrugged. "I dunno, maybe call the police. Scream rape at the top of my lungs and wait for someone to come running." I'm not sure where my boldness came from, because on the inside I was shaking with fear. This man didn't look too friendly, or seem like he had a sense of humor.

He let go of the girl's mouth and snarled at me. "You two will be dead before the police will ever get here."

"That just leaves me with my second option." I took in a large breath. "RA-" Words failed me, though, as the man pulled out a small switchblade from his pocket. My heart stopped beating, and my breath got stuck in my throat. My poor excuse for a brain seemed to shut down as he stepped closer to me. The girl slowly started to slink away while his attention was on me.

So I help you, and you leave once I'm in need of some assistance, because I helped you. What a classy girl we've got over here.

I took another step back as he took a step forward. My adrenaline was increasing, and it was this moment I doubted the fight or flight theory. It should be, fight, flight, or stand in place like an idiot. "I suggest you shut your mouth before I shut it for you."

_How original._

"Listen man, let's not do this." I said, putting my hands up to show I meant no harm, slowly backing away. The flight reaction was taking a while to kick in, but it was. "Just let me and the girl go home. Okay?"

He lunged for me. I tried to block him, though it was in vain. He was bigger, stronger, and faster. I learned this quickly when I was being pushed up against the wall with a switchblade at my throat. My feet were dangling in the air as he held me by the neck, cutting off most of my air supply. "No, I don't think I will. Besides, you need to be taught a lesson." He took his thumb of the handle and rubbed circles in the middle of my throat. He suddenly pulled his free hand back and slapped me across the face. I winced as the stinging spread across my check."You have no right to disrespect me, you're not even that hot."

_Add insult to injury, why don't you?_

"I dunno man, I think she's alright." A new voice said from behind and my fear grew. It was probably on of his gang friends to help kill me. My imagination began to run away, as I imagined my mother watching them on a documentary about my death. My heavy heart fell down in my stomach at the thought.

But the man turned his head slightly, and immediately let go of my neck. I dropped to the ground, gasping for air. I heard a sickening crack as I painfully landed on my wrist. I looked up to try and see who distracted my soon to be murder. I was utterly shocked to see a flash of red and blue spandex before getting a closer look at the famous Spider-Man. "W-what are you doing here?" The man stuttered, holding his switchblade by his side.

I think if Spider-Man wasn't wearing a mask, he would have grinned. "Well I'm here to stop you from hurting this innocent girl, of course!" He exclaimed, gesturing to my spot on the ground. I pressed myself up against the wall as my body started to tremble with fear. My knees were brought up to my chest as I wrapped my arms around them. I was so afraid.

The man obviously wasn't very smart, because he charged for the masked hero, holding his weapon out in front of him. Spider-Man then proceeded to kick this man in the face, doing so as simply as if he were shopping for cereal. The man dropped to the ground, the switchblade clattering against the gravel ground. I looked in the direction of where the woman was, but she was no where to be seen. "Are you okay?" Spider-Man asked gently, still I shrunk away from his voice, still terrified of what just happened.

Yes, I have a feint heart.

"Hey, miss, it's okay. I'm not going to hurt you, I promise." He held his hand out in front of me. "Let me help you up." I hesitated, but grabbed his hand anyway and was brought to my feet. "Now, are you okay? I heard a crack."

I held out my wrist, which was now purple and swelling. "I think it might be broken, or at least sprained." I whispered, looking down at the ground as he gently took my wrist in his hands.

"You're going to need to get this check out and most likely get a cast." He let go of my wrist, and I let it drop down to my side again. "What's your name?"

"Camden."

He nodded. "Do you want me to take you home?" I nodded, still looking down at the ground. Suddenly, he pulled me towards him, wrapping one arm around my waist and shooting a web out of the other one. I barely had time to process what was happening before we were soaring through the air. I wrapped my arms around his middle as tightly as I could and squeezed my eyes shut. Falling is one of my biggest fears, and I couldn't afford to look down and see how high off the ground we were. There was a reason I was so short, God or Buddha or whoever knew I needed to be close to the ground. Though, other than the fact I was too terrified to open my eyes, I did enjoy the wind blowing through my hair and the feeling of flying. It was really nice, actually.

The wind stopped, and everything seemed still, though I didn't realize my grin or open my eyes. It was too risky, in my opinion. Spider-Man gently nudged me. "Hey, we're on top of your apartment building."

I opened my eyes to see we were on the middle of a rooftop. I slowly let to of my savior's waist and took a step back, looking up at him. "How do you know where I live?"

He paused. "I remember seeing you here one day."

I nodded, thinking of that one day, which was yesterday. "Thank you so much for what you did." I said, putting honesty in my words.

He shrugged. "It's all in a day's work, you know. Being a crime fighter and all."

"Still, is there anyway I can repay you or anything?"

He looked down at me for a while. "I'll think of something eventually." And with that, he ran off the side if the building and flung away, into the night sky. I watched his body disspear in the night sky as he flung from building to building. And that night, I grew the biggest crush on the masked hero called Spider-Man.


	4. Proper Thanks

**alice in the sweetland: Best story ever? Um, thank you so much! **

**kitkat101895: I love writing the conversation with her parents. I actually got the inspiration for Matt and Jane (her parents, I haven't named her dad yet, but he is Matt) from Easy A. I loved Olive's parents, and I wanted Camden's mom and dad to be like that. And thank god you'll have the next chapter up soon! That story is the shit. (That's a compliment, by the way. Some people get confused.) **

**Shaybo27: OC stories are my favorite :)! I'm not sure why, though. And I know right! I hate it when I click on an OC story, and the girl's parents beat her, or she's been sexually abused. I just want my OC to not need a tragic event in her life to be interesting! A lot of authors use the tragic past thing to make their characters interesting, and it just gets so old! For some people it works, but most of the time it's just irritating. Finally someone understands! **

**madison. : The movie is fantastic, isn't it? I love Andrew Garfield as Spider-Man. It's funny, I watched Spider-Man 2.1 the other day, and I couldn't help but compare Andrew's Peter Parker to Tobey's Peter Parker. **

**highlander348: Maybe...maybe not..Camden's not the type of girl who likes to get herself involved in things, but she does have a lot of curiousity, mixed in with some bravery, so maybe ;) **

**QueenOfAshes: Nutella is the best, right? Gift of the gods. My friend Andy ate my entire jar of Nutella when hurricane Sandy hit us. I almost killed her. I must admit, I do like writing about this Camden more than the PJO one, maybe because this one is in Camden's point of view. I'm not sure, it could be because I like Peter Parker better than my own character, Brandon. **

**Fench-the-TARDIS: Haha, I know right? I wanted it to be a good one, but the only ones I could think of were cheesy and corny. Then I thought that if I could make it Camden think it was another attacker, I could use up more words :) And I am so glad you like my story and I made your day! Go me! **

**Alright, two challenges. First, if you are the first to tell me what my name is, you get a chapter dedicated to you. Second, if you are the first to name the song in this chapter, and who it's by, you get a chapter dedicated to you and you get to pick Camden and Spidey's song :) **

**You can't win both, just to be fair :) And you can't pick a Taylor Swift song, I hate her music. No offense to her fans! **

**Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoy! **

_Chapter Four: A Proper Thanks_

_Your father and I left for a romantic getaway. We'll be back by Sunday night, and I promise if we come back with a little sibling, it was an accident. Call me if you need anything! Please don't need anything! Love you! –Mom. _

I rolled my eyes as I read the note my mother left me on the kitchen counter. It was eight in the morning on a Saturday, what the hell could be romantic about getting up that early and driving somewhere? Though, my mother and father were always the ones for surprises, so it wasn't really shocking that they would do something along these lines. As long as they didn't come back with another brother, I'd be fine. The thought of another little Ashton running around scared me half to death.

It was too early in the morning for contacts, so I just left my glasses on as I made breakfast. Today I was going to give myself a tour of New York City, which basically meant I was going to walk around and look for local grocery stores and cheap clothing stores. Also, trying my hardest not to get attacked, again. This time I would come prepared with pepper spray, if that's legal in New York. It might be better to look that up.

Discovering the pepper spray and mace was legal in New York, via the wonderful technology of the twenty-first century, I grinned. My dad has some, because he's not strong enough to defend himself and it's legal in Massachusetts. Fortunately for me, he keeps it in the most obvious place in the world, his sock drawer.

As I headed into my parent's room to grab my totally legal, defensive weapon, memories of last night flooded into my mind. I shuddered as I remembered the cool knife pressed against my throat, and the sickening crack of my wrist, which was now purple and in desperate need of medical attention. Along with the horrifying thoughts, I thought of Spider-Man. I remembered what it was like being wrapped around his arms and having a comforting feeling flood over me, despite being thousands of feet above the ground. I remembered how strong his arms felt as the held onto my waist. It was a good feeling, and for some reason, I longed to be in his arms again.

Shaking my head, I exited my parent's room, pepper spray in hand, and walked back into the kitchen when my bagel popped out of the toaster. Perfect timing. I looked down at my outfit of jeans, a Rocky Balboa shirt, Converse, and a jacket. Put it all together with my glasses and I look like your average nerd.

I coated my bagel with cream cheese and began eating, not leaving the house until I was fully finished and satisfied. Once I did finish, though, I was hesitant to walk out the door alone. I began to doubt myself. What if something did happen to me and the pepper spray was no help? Admittedly, I walked into the danger last night, but what if it found me this time? What if there was no Spider-Man to come and save me? I was too afraid to walk out the door, and I could admit that to myself. Instead of plucking up the courage to exit my apartment building, I turned around, put on some sweatpants, and called my mom.

It rang three times before I heard my mother's voice on the other line. "Hey sweetie, how are you? Sorry your father and I just left, but you were asleep and we figured you were old enough to take care of yourself, right?"

I inwardly groaned. I was just about to ask them to come home because I was too afraid to leave the safety of our apartment, and she plays the "you can handle yourself" card? How dare she? "Yeah, that's okay. But, um, I think I broke my wrist." Her gasp was instant, and I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. I had the type of mother to freak out over a paper cut, maybe this should have been information passed onto my father instead. "Don't worry, I'm fine! I just fell and I wanted to let you know!" I know it was technically a lie, because I did fall, but I still felt bad. They were my parents and they did deserve to know the truth, but I could bring myself to tell them that they're only daughter almost died. If I were to do it, I would have done it last night when it happened.

"We are coming home right now and taking you to the hospital." She said her voice urgent. "Oh, baby, are you in a lot of pain?"

I really did roll my eyes this time. "No, mom, I'm fine. It can wait. I'll just wrap it with a bandage until you come home. Then you can take me to the doctor's."

She was still very hesitant. "Camden, are you sure? I don't want anything worse to happen to it. What if you fall again?" The worry was clear in her voice, and I could imagine my father rolling his eyes besides her. I smiled at the image.

"Mom, I doubt the doctor will do much more than I will. Everything's going to be okay. Enjoy your romantic weekend, and if you come home before seven o'clock Sunday night, I'm not talking to you for a week." I said firmly, though I knew I had no real control over my mother. I just liked to pretend.

She sighed. "Oh, alright, just try not to kill yourself while we're gone. I don't want to end up with just Ashton. He smells bad and can't even do his own laundry. If I'm stuck with him as my only child, it's your entire fault, you hear me?"

I laughed. "Alright Mom, I'll keep that in mind. I love you, bye."

"Love you too." I hung up the phone and let out one more chuckle. My mother was insane, but boy did I love her and my father. They really were the two best parents anyone could ask for. With that in mind, I ran into my bathroom and wrapped up my wrist, just to keep my mom happy. Truth be told, I had no real intention of taking care of my wrist, but I alright lied twice to my parents in the past two days, I figured the least I could do was take care of myself.

Part of me wondered if this would effect my playing, the other part of me wanted to do something I've always thought would be so cool. I went into my room and grabbed my keyboard and keys before exiting my apartment and heading up the stairs towards the roof.

It was a clear, chilly day. The sun was bright, providing some warmth as the cool breeze nipped at my nose. I reached into my jacket pocket, finding a pair of gloves, so my fingers wouldn't fall off as I played. I set my keyboard up, facing west, with the sun warming my back. My covered fingers traced along the keys, making no noise. With a song in mind, my fingers gently pressed the keys, making notes just like a whisper. "_Scar tissue that I wish you saw, sarcastic mister know-it-all. Close your eyes and I'll kiss you cause, with bird I'll share." _

The notes came out louder and stronger now, just as my voice did. I looked up to the New York City skyline, and I suddenly wished a certain man in blue and red spandex would show up. _"With birds I'll share this lonely view, yeah. With birds I'll share this lonely view, yeah." _I could hear my voice above the wind as it picked up, sending shivers done my spine. I half wondered if anyone could hear me, and if they did that they were art appreciaters and not grumpy old men.

_"Push me up against the wall, young Kentucky girl with a push-up bra. Falling all over myself to lick your heart and taste your health cause, with birds I'll share this lonely view, yeah. With birds I'll share this lonely view, yeah. With birds I'll share this lonely view." _I smiling up at the sky and taking in a deep breath of air.

My fingers continued to dance along the keys with power, and I smiled at the sound of it. I loved to hear the differnence in the song when placed on the piano, without the guitar, drums, or the under-apperciated bass. I looked around at the city, I could see the sun shining bright behind me through the reflection in the building across from me. _"Blood lost in a bathroom stall, a southern girl with a scarlett drawl. Wave goodbye to Ma and Pa, cause with birds I'll share." _If Spider-Man were swinging on his web, would he stop to her me play, I wonder?

_"With birds I'll share this lonely view, yeah. With birds I'll share this lonely view, yeah. With birds I'll share this lonely view." _My voice hit the high notes with ease, the higher notes always being my strong suit, while low notes were my Achille's heel. _"Soft-spoken with a broken jaw, step out side but not to brawl. Autumn's sweet, we call it 'fall'. I'll make it to the moon if I have to crawl. With birds I'll share this lonely view, yeah. With brids I'll share this lonely view, yeah. With birds I'll share this lonely view." _

_"Scar tissue that I wish you saw, sarcastic mister know-it-all. Close your eyes and I'll kiss you cause, with birds I'll share. With birds I'll share this lonely view, yeah. With birds I'll share this lonely view, yeah. With birds I'll share this lonely view." _The piano finished up the job as I played the last few notes, looking out towards the sky. I smiled to myself, enjoying the feeling for performing, even in front of a building. It was a good feeling, playing a favorite song.

I started to lift my keyboard when I heard a clapping behind me, and I jumped, hoping that it was just my imagination or the maintence guy who worked here. With my luck, it was probably another mugger, or even the same one, who planned to kill me. I squeezed my eyes shut, hoping for the best, but expecting the worst as I slowly turned around and opened my green eyes wide. I was happily surprised to see the one and only, Spider-Man. "W-what are you doing here?" I stammered like an idiot.

He shrugged and walked closer to me. "I was just swinging around the neighborhood and I heard you playing. I didn't realize it was you until I came up and saw you. You're really good, by the way." I flushed at his compliment and looked down at the ground bashfully. "Why are you up here, though? It's cold out here." He asked me before I had a chance to thank him.

"I like playing outside better. I dunno why." I looked up at him. "Aren't you cold in that?"

I heard a chuckle, and it sounded fimiliar. I wondered where on Earth I could have heard that before. Maybe I was just insane, but I swear he sounded just like someone, but I couldn't but my finger on it. "No, not really. I just got used to it after a while." He came closer to me and sat down against the door, leading back inside. He motioned for me to sit next to him. I hesitated before doing so, sitting a good ten inches away from him.

There was a silence between us, and I looked for something to say. "Look, I never really properly thanked you for what you did-"

"Don't worry about it, okay? Seriously, Camden, it was my pleasure saving you from that creep." It took me a little while to remember that I had told him my name, and that he did not stalk me. "Besides, I thought of a way that you can properly repay me."

"Oh yeah?"

If he wasn't wearing a mask, I could imagine he was smiling. "Yeah. I want you to come up here and sing to me, as often as you can." I opened my mouth to say something, but he kept going. "Really, you have such a beautiful voice. I'd love to listen to it everyday."

"Well, that can be arranged. How bout I come up here at six every night and sing?" I agreed. Even though it wasn't much, or exactly what I had in mind, it was how he wanted me to repay him. As long as that's what he wanted, I was more than happy to come up her and do what I love every night for someone.

I pictured a grin forming on his face and a twinkle in his eye. "That'd be perfect. Thank you so much, Camden." He said, and I smiled up at him. For a while after that, I sat there next to him, nothing said between us. It was a little awkward, but nothing unbareable. I enjoyed sitting next to him, even though just moments before I was day dreaming about being in his arms again.

"Do you ever get scared?" I asked randomly, and his head snapped to face me. "Of falling, I mean?"

He shook his head. "I can't be, it would hold me back from doing what I do best."

"And what's that?"

"Being Spider-Man."

I smiled, thinking about that for a second. He was Spider-Man, that was, as far as I know, what he was best at. But there had to be more than that. There was a person behind that mask. That person had a life, a family, friends, and many other things that a normal person had. The person behind that mask had a life other than Spider-Man, maybe even a few people knew his secret. There was a person behind the mask, and I wanted to know who it was.

"Well, I best be going. I have a city to protect from crime, you know." He stood, and I did the same, grabbing my keyboard. "Goodbye, Camden. See you tomorrow at six."

"Goodbye Spider-Man." I waved feebly as I watched him jump off the roof and soar off into the city. Again. I let out a sigh, shaking my head. Of all the things I could get myself involved with in New York City, I get involved with a man in a mask, who has super-human powers. I open the door and head back down towards my apartment. That was all the adventure I needed for the day. I was now free to sit on the couch and watch the Big Band Theory while drinking hot chocolate.


End file.
